


As One

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Condoms, Court of Owls, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Masturbation, Mentions of Pedophilia, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Power Play, Violence, Worship, cult vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: We, the Court, are as one. We, the Court, rule with Justice unified.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vertigo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertigo/gifts).



> For #jaytimss, written for @beta-lactamase - AO3 JayTIm_Secret_Santa_Exchange_2017  
> Prompts: Courtmaster Tim/Owl Jason; enemies to lovers; post near-death patrol (aka the good Ol' angst)  
> I've chosen the Courtmaster Tim and Owl Jason AU option. It took me a long time to get a good grip on a plot for this so I really truly hope you enjoy it. Months of indecision come to this. ♥ Happy Holidays!  
> Beta: kate1zena
> 
> I should note the mentions of pedophilia are seriously just that, in passing, about someone else. Nada to do with JayTim. Just wanted to be sure to warn for everything just in case!

The room swirled with an energy that set Jason on edge. Even after all these years, he still hadn't grown used to the sensation of all the Court members being in a room. Some part of him really thought at least one of them practiced magic and was, perhaps, attempting to put them on edge like this each time they met. Venue didn't seem to matter: be it the official chambers deep beneath Gotham, one of their safe houses strewn throughout the city, or even when he'd met a few of them for a job that required Court intervention instead of the Talons, the same swirling unease permeated the world around them.

He stilled the shiver from his shoulders and instead focused on his breathing, fighting to keep it steady behind the white owl mask. The next part always made him feel ill. 

His gaze lost focus as the Courtmaster descended the stairs at the back of the chamber and shrugged off the cloak that had been draped over his slim shoulders, letting it fall, trusting the two Court members behind him to catch it. They did – neatly– and he kept moving forward, one foot before the other, a cool air of order surrounding him.

He stopped at the head of the table, held out one ringed hand to a male Court member on his right and waited until he'd kissed the ring before raising his other hand high over his head.

The room had already been silent, but now it was as if everyone held their breath, not a single sound in the chamber, not even the building dared to make a sound until someone screamed somewhere in the depths of the hallways. It was high pitched, desperate, and Jason's blood ran cold at the sound of it. 

Just as always, an _example_ would be made of someone who had failed the Court.

From an aspect of order and control, Jason had to give it to the Courtmaster: it kept them all in line and forced them to never forget their place, though he honestly wished it was more like the first Courtmaster he'd been forced to join under so many years ago. There would be death, perhaps someone laid out on the floor already dead when they arrived where they would gather and stare until they were told the list of misdeeds, and that would be that. _This one_... well, he made an example of the person in ways Jason couldn't quite stomach at times. 

The curtains moved on the door at the far end of the hall and two Talons entered, a young woman struggling between them. Her mask was still firmly over her face and rather than her robes, she wore her street clothes. Jason took note that only one of her strappy heels were still on, the other lost at some point in her capture, he was certain.

Together both Talons tossed her across the table, let her slide the length of it until she was splayed out in front of the Courtmaster, in complete disarray, one pant leg hiked halfway up her calf, her shirt twisted in a way that had to be uncomfortable, suit jacket ripped all the way down one side.

The Courtmaster extracted his hand from the male at his side's grip and reached forward, his hand coming to rest on her mask, her body stilling instantly, a thin wail rising from her as he began to speak.

"Do you wish to repent?"

Jason swallowed back the sick feeling in his throat at the words, knew the whole thing was a complete Catch-22. It didn't matter if she repented or not, the result would be the same.

She screamed instead of answering and Jason could almost sense the cold sort of smile he was sure the Courtmaster was wearing under his mask.

"Diana Cross, we – the Court – sentence you to revelation and exile for your crimes, as follows:" He gestured to the envelopes placed in front of each Court member. 

The male to his right picked up his and slid the small white parchment out from within, reading aloud. "Failure to maintain secrecy of the Court."

The woman to his right slid the paper from her envelope and followed suit, each one of them in turn, around the entire table. "Failure to maintain proper status amongst Gotham's elite."

"The use of cocaine within Gotham city limits."

"Talk of Court activities while at a party with non-Court members."

Jason's hands shook just the slightest as he removed his paper and glanced over it, feeling sicker by the second as he read over it. "Proposition of a minor."

He placed the card upon the table and carefully put his trembling hands behind his back, standing at attention once again, though his heart was in his throat. Anguish and anger warred with one another, his entire being upset by the revelation on his card. This woman – this _filth_ – had done such a crime? If she truly had, then she deserved more than they were giving her.

His mind barely registered the rest of the laundry list the Court read for her, only heard her rapid breathing, her little whimpered pleas. His eyes only registered the Courtmaster's hand still settled upon her mask, as if holding that alone was enough to keep her in place. She could have tried to run, could have fought, but no one ever did once they were here, as if some unseen force held them to the table.

The Court completed their reading and silence fell yet again, this time even the woman on the table falling silent with them. 

"For your crimes, we, the Court, sentence you to be known for your misdeeds until the date of your death." The Courtmaster held out his hand and one of the Talons stepped up behind him, handing him a small vial which was carefully uncorked. 

Every Court member closest to the woman reached out, holding her in place. Jason hands grasped her ankle, holding with enough pressure to keep her there, but not enough to bruise. 

Usually, he couldn't watch this part, hazed himself out for it, but this time he watched attentively, anger boiling in his stomach for what he'd read from his card about this woman. 

The Courtmaster removed her mask, holding it up and pouring the gel-like substance over the inside of it. "Look upon Diana Cross, my dearest Owls. This is the face of _exile_. A woman without morals, without ability to deem what should be kept to herself. This is the face of a thief, a pedophile, a traitor."

He lowered the mask to her face and she began to scream. "The world will never again see this face. For the most repeated offense, she shall now be marked with the mask for eternity."

His hand lifted and he stepped back, both Talons moving in, knocking her out to silence the screams and then dragging her away. The vial was recorked and placed upon the table. "These things are done with much distaste. The filth has been removed from our midst and the evidence of each crime shall line the hallways as you leave should you require knowledge that these allegations are truthful." He was silent for a second. "Trust in the Court is absolute."

The entire hall rose as one voice, Jason's own chiming in with it automatically. "Trust in the Court is absolute."

"Quiet presence within the city is necessity."

Again the echo of the words rose up around the table, Jason's mouth forming the words easily despite the fact that they changed dependent upon the crime of the person upon the table. 

"Drug use without reason will not be tolerated." A pause for the echo and then, more solemnly, "Rapists and pedophiles will be punished with _death_ henceforth."

This part Jason echoed more easily than all the rest, his voice strong and _angry_ as he spoke the words. His gaze met and held the Courtmaster's for the first time in all the years he'd been with the Court and his breath stuck in his throat as that icy gaze held his own for what felt like forever. 

"We, the Court, are as one. We, the Court, rule with Justice unified."

Jason spoke the words just as strongly as the prior ones, waited with crystal clarity until the Courtmaster's gaze left his. He nearly stumbled with the lack of the hold it had had on him and he found himself wondering if, perhaps, it was the Courtmaster who practiced magic or if his presence was just that solid.

They all took their seats and plans were gone over for the following weeks, certain key members given information on what they needed to do in order to ensure success and discretion. 

All of it paled in comparison to that moment where his eyes had met the Courtmaster's, where he'd felt like his very soul was being evaluated.

They were dismissed with another hail of, "We, the Court, are as one. We, the Court, rule with Justice unified," and everyone trailed out their respective corridors.

Jason found himself standing with his hand on his envelope, anger boiling in his veins. She would become the very thing they were fighting, would become the horror of this city's streets with that mask plastered to her face and she would give them all a vile name. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and Jason jerked in surprise, snapping his head up to find the Courtmaster standing beside him. Jason tried to straighten himself, to get himself to attention, but the hand on his shoulder tightened, keeping him where he was. 

"At ease..." the voice was softer than it had ever been, merely a whisper in the huge room. "You worry because of this crime," he flipped over the card and revealed the words, "do you not?"

"I do."

The hand on his shoulder eased, gliding down to press between his shoulder blades. "Is this personal for you?"

"No." It wasn't, not really. Jason had known a few kids back when he'd been on the street who'd been through this sort of thing, had been used and violated and tossed out like trash by their elders. But he'd never had these things happen to him. 

"Yet it is close to your heart."

"She will become what we fight." The words were sure, spoken stronger than Jason had honestly thought he could manage when being confronted with the Courtmaster himself.

"She will be watched, day and night. Her life is now one lived with a Talon at her back every instant of it. They will do what is necessary should she so much as make a move toward violating certain things again."

"The drugs?"

"No. That is her decision now that she will not represent us."

"But she wears _our_ mask."

The Courtmaster let out a low chuckle. "She will not wear it for long. She will desire its removal, will seek to pull it from her body and when she does, she will be left with the bitter option of a skin graft to desperately try to replace what she's ripped off with it."

"What if she chooses to leave it on?"

The Courtmaster's hand moved back to his shoulder, squeezed in a reassuring manner. "Then she will and perhaps that will be penance enough. Should she choose that route, her crimes will be displayed for all of Gotham to see."

Jason almost spit out that they should have killed her, should have let her die for some of the things she'd done, but he bit his tongue, held it back with great effort, disliked the boiling hatred in his gut.

The hand left him and the card was removed from beneath his fingers, tucked away inside the envelope. "There is no need for the hatred in your heart, Jason. This has been taken care of and will continue to be. No one but her will be hurt."

Jason dropped his gaze to the table, moved to stand at attention now, hands clasped behind his back, his feet spread shoulder-width apart and his stance rigid. "Yes, Sir."

Distantly, he could hear the entrances sealing behind the members as they left the hallways, the dull thud of the doors and unease spread through him, making him wonder if he'd be stuck here, if his own door had already sealed shut.

"You have never felt anything but sickness at the things we do upon this table in the past. I've watched you for years and each time you betray your anguish at what is done. I've let it be if for no other reason than I believe we all need our fear to hold us in place. You have been mine for as long as I have been here. You are a gauge. If I go too far, I can read it in you and if I have made no effect, I know that as well. Tonight... I could not read if my actions were enough or too much because within you, there is only hatred. Until your card, there was fear, the usual amount that keeps us all in line. But this," he reached out and tapped the card, "flipped a switch inside you. A switch I suspect leads us to a path where you would advocate for her murder. Perhaps, I should share with you the actuality of her crime in this instance, the _reason_ why she has not been killed as of yet."

One ringed hand came out and Jason thought for an instant he was supposed to kiss it, just as the male Court member always did. But when he started to shift, his hand was grasped instead and the quietest, "Come," was uttered as they started to move away from the table. 

They moved up the stairs at the end of the hall and Jason was ushered into a room filled with monitors, the hum of a computer's fan somewhat distant. Behind them a Talon slipped into the room, making himself just obvious enough that Jason noticed his presence. The screens lit up with silent imagery, Diana Cross laughing at a party, obviously drunk and presumably high as a kite given the glassy look in her eyes. Jason watched as she slung her arm around a young man, leaned up against his side and then reached for his chin, drawing his gaze up and leaning in, almost kissing him before he was pushing at her stomach, discomfort in the way he was struggling against what had to be an iron touch if he wasn't getting away.

She leaned in and words were whispered into his ear and then he was shaking his head and shoving at her until she stumbled back and he bolted. She turned back to her group of laughing friends who hadn't been paying her any attention save for one girl who was glaring daggers at her, her hands clenched into fists that no one else seemed to notice. 

The screens went blank and the Courtmaster let go of Jason's hand after a brief squeeze. "This is her crime. She did not go after him, did not grope him, but she did make him extraordinarily uncomfortable and the words that were whispered were sexual in nature. A proposition to have her." 

Jason watched as the Courtmaster settled against the edge of the table in front of him, both hands on the metal, his gaze holding Jason's once again. "Tell me what you noticed most about this scene."

Instantly, Jason replied, surprised himself at which part stuck with him. "The girl with her fists clenched. She looked ready to punch her." He hesitated and then, "Did she?"

"No, she did not. She did so much better than that. See, Diana spent her time at that party _bragging_ about being a Court member. That girl spent the time to track us down, to find the footage we have here, and handed off the recording _to a Talon_." 

There was a pause and Jason knew it was to let that sink in. The fact that she'd tracked down a Talon, of all people, and handed it off was astounding. 

"We found the kid and verified his age, verified what had been said to him, and we have handled her amongst ourselves for now. Sometimes a crime can be stopped before it rolls into a larger one... sometimes it cannot. I believe she has the fear of God in her now, just as your father did when he handed you off to my predecessor."

Jason stiffened at that, shame filtering through him. Things had been different back then, the Court standing for things it didn't anymore. There had been crime amongst them then, corruption that ran deeper than anything else ever had. In that regard, this Courtmaster had been a blessing. While Jason had never felt like he was able to just leave, he had felt less like he was being forced into some kind of slavery since he'd taken over. It still felt like a fucked up cult, felt like a huge burden on his soul, but he didn't feel like there were hands choking him out at night any longer.

"I'd like an honest answer to this. Not a fear-based one, if you will." The Courtmaster's hand gently cupped the cheek of his mask and drew Jason's gaze back to him before the hand retreated. "Do you hate being a member as you used to?"

Jason gave it a moment's thought, turned it over in his mind before he breathed out a quiet, "No."

"Surely you take note that you and one other are the only original members of the Court from when I took over, do you not?"

Jason hadn't really noticed, hadn't taken that much stock of who else had been there. The only people he focused on were the ones on the table, the Courtmaster himself, and the male to the Courtmaster's right if only for the fact that he kissed his ring, though now that he thought about it, he couldn't have honestly told if it was the same man each time or not. He shook his head tightly, fear in his gut that he hadn't noticed this.

"There is a reason for that. The Court was in disarray, the original intentions lost beneath a layer of corruption and filth running so deep it seeped right into the head himself. I took his place with one act of violence, the only way to seize control within the Court's rules and I have systematically destroyed the corruption within our ranks, replaced them with better people. It has been a _chore_ , a slow build up as we cut out the sour spots and replace them with better and better people each time. Too fast and it would have been noticed, too slow and I would have been party to the corruption that plagues this city. Just right... and no one notices the truth of it."

He pushed away from the table and held out his hand. Once again, Jason felt the pull to take his hand and kiss his ring, some absurd desire to display allegiance, as if his own were being questioned despite no words spoke toward such an allegation. 

The Courtmaster's hand flipped over, his fingers curling slightly in a gesture built to ask for Jason's hand. "Come with me. I promise you will not be late for your shift at the factory."

Jason froze, fear in his veins. He'd taken that job under cover of another name, _hated_ the office job where he sat and twiddled his thumbs during the day. He'd only wanted to do something of use when he'd taken it, but had known it wasn't up to Court standards as far as a job went. But putting together the vehicles made him feel like he mattered, something his office job didn't accomplish. 

"There's no need for your fear, Jason. You are not on trial. I suspect with the sort of person you are that you will not ever be upon that table. The one Court member I will never have to replace."

Jason reached out, took his hand, and let himself be lead from the room, down a series of corridors and then out to a waiting limo, the driver's face masked in shadow.

They slid inside, Jason first, and when the door shut behind them, the Courtmaster gestured at his mask. "Remove it. We shall not be seen in the city with them on."

Jason's hands shook as he reached up, hesitant, and then, quietly, "And one shall not reveal themselves to another member of the Court without repercussion." He paused and then whispered, "Which rule is to win?"

"I already know your identity. I know your life, maybe better than you do. There is no violation in this task, Jason."

Jason's fingers found the mask and slowly eased it from his face, settling it on the seat beside him and then looking up. He found himself confronted with one of the last people he'd ever expected to be sitting there, the Courtmaster's mask beside him on the seat as well. This time when his hand was offered, it was in the manner of introduction and Jason took it easily despite the way his breath lodged in his throat. 

"Tim."

Jason _knew_ who this man was, knew of his influence and his power, knew who his _family_ was and he was struck with how very much could be cost if he revealed who Tim was to anyone at all.

They shook and Tim squeezed his hand before he let it go. "Your fear is back, but it is not for yourself this time." Tim sat back, looked almost dreamy for a second. "It's been a long time since someone feared for me."

Something in Jason made him feel like he should be embarrassed, as if his cheeks should be on fire with it, though his body made no move to actually enact such a scenario. Instead, he twisted his hands in his lap and did his best not to stare.

"This is what you've earned. My identity handed to you for your loyalty and your ability to never once step out of line, even under the old regime. Just how you managed not to involve yourself in their filth is a mystery I've yet to unravel, but you managed and for that, you are untarnished by their hatred and misdeeds."

Jason stared at him, his heart beating frantically as he stared at Tim. He'd always valued the things Tim did and said in the public eye, saw him as a brilliant man, a programmer above the caliber of most, and the way he'd taken the reigns of Wayne Enterprises had astounded most of the _world_ , not just Gotham city. Now, he shared a car with this man, with this _genius_ and he found himself suddenly self-conscious of all the times he'd let his mind go wherever it wanted to in personal aspects of his life. 

It had seemed allowable at the time. Tim was, after all, a celebrity by all rights, and Jason's private fantasies hurt no one. Now his gut twisted with them, left him feeling like he'd betrayed something of utmost importance by having them. 

His mouth engaged in what amounted to sheer panic and he choked out a broken, "Oh God, I'm so sorry."

For a moment confusion clouded Tim's gaze and then curiosity. "Of all the people I have made it my business to keep tabs on in my life, you have the least amount of things to be sorry for. Your family is not you, Jason. If you are thinking of apologizing for your father's ways, do not."

Jason shook his head, feeling light headed as he stopped being able to breathe entirely properly. Panic seized his gut and he shuddered with it, his arms drawing around his middle, his vision tunneling down to the floor in front of him. 

"Allow me to list your worst offenses so that you can see that they stand so far off the grid of anyone else's that they are _irrelevant_. You drank before the age of eighteen. Three times. Two of those in the aftermath of losing a parent, one in the pits of such despair over having been _sold_ to the Court that none of those count in my books. You took up smoking before the age of eighteen, again to quell the nerves from being within the Court – an organization that - at that time - was so filled with corruption it was only understandable that you did it. You partake in marijuana around once a month and while you buy from a young man in your building, you do have a legal license for it, though unused through those channels. My belief as to your reasons there is to provide the kid with income where he isn't out selling it on the street. I'm aware you have given him a small client-base from the law firm as well, the rest of the secretary pool for the most part. It keeps him with a home, off the street, and he's only growing enough to supply the amount of you that it still would not amount to more than intent to distribute for him. Well planned if I do say so myself. I have allowed it on the basis of the fact that you continue to tell him he has to stop once he's out of college and I fully believe you will make him."

Tim shifted, crossed one leg over the other. "You hired a prostitute once, years ago. I have no official documentation on it, but from what the girl could remember, you sat there and talked to her all night and then handed her a wad of cash that had to be almost everything you had back then. I'm operating under the assumption that you were keeping her off the street during a police raid of the area because you knew she had three children at home. Am I right?"

Jason stared at him with something akin to what he'd think eels might feel like if they could live in his stomach: a sick slithering feeling deep inside him. "Yes."

"Technically an illegal act to hire a prostitute, but you also did nothing actually illegal with her. Gray area, at worst." Tim made a flippant gesture, a bemused smile on his lips. "You have an odd habit of going out at night when you're not at the factory and doing some very hazardous parkour along Gotham's rooftops and while I would assume the police might try to intervene if they saw you, they have not and you are not putting anyone in danger but yourself. Interesting choice of exercise, but not technically illegal."

"The closest you have ever stepped to a line is tonight. Your rage at that woman, which I can see has quelled since I showed you the tape. If she had gone even a single action further than she did, your gut reaction would be nothing but _right_ and trust me when I tell you it would have been dealt with as I stated in Court tonight."

Jason gave a weak little nod, feeling his stomach turn, a new fear bright in his mind, the old one nearly forgotten.

"So what is it that you feel the need to apologize for?"

Just like that it all came crowding back in and he actually blanched, drawing in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. This wasn't the kind of man you lied to. Tim was powerful – _all powerful_ as far as Gotham went – and that wasn't something Jason wanted to be on the wrong side of.

He drooped in his seat, his heart aching in his chest, a certain anxiousness flooding through him. "My thoughts have been unclean in regards to you."

He could sense Tim's movement, didn't look to see what he was doing, instead closing his eyes and waiting on whatever would come. 

"Did you wish to harm me?" Tim's voice was careful, unjudging but tinged with something Jason couldn't put a name to.

He shook his head. "No." He wished he could have just disappeared into himself then, realizing how far he'd regressed in such a short period of time. The shame of his youth blossomed in his gut and the fear of his father's fist came up like sickening bile in his throat, making him gag, his hand slapping over his mouth as he swallowed against it repeatedly. 

The seat shifted beside him and Tim's hand came to rest on his back, right between his shoulder blades. An ice bucket was pushed into his hands and Jason clutched at it shakily, still fighting the desire to throw up in a somewhat desperate manner. 

"Take your time." The words were still calm but almost icy now, as if Tim were pulling himself back from Jason and that _hurt_ in an unexpected sort of way, left Jason shaking under Tim's touch.

It took him a minute to fight back the desire to throw up, to get his stomach to stop quivering. Only then did he force out the truth of his betrayal. "I didn't know... had no idea it was _you_." He shook his head, realizing it was an excuse, realizing it was disgusting no matter who it was, that he was unclean with so many more people than just Tim. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I thought about you while I was –" his throat closed off again and he let out a strangled sort of sound and finally made the gesture for tossing off, almost gagging again, barely catching it.

Tim's fingers pressed against him a little tighter for a second and then, softly, "Are you this upset over thinking about me while getting off?"

Jason nodded somewhat frantically, heard Tim's breath whoosh out and then a quiet sigh. "Jesus Christ, what did your father actually do to you?" It was almost rhetorical, no answer actually needed, though there were a few seconds left open where Jason could have spoken if he wanted to. "Records hold that he was abusive, though what we have recorded were violent tendencies – kicking, punching, screaming until the cops were called a few times. Evidence that he might have been the reason for your bruised ribs when you went into the system after their death." Tim was quiet for a moment. "But it was more, wasn't it?"

Jason shook his head a little, his hands shaking though he felt a bit more able to breathe now. "Just that."

Tim's hand shifted and Jason tensed, not wanting it to go away now that he had its warmth. It was placed back a moment later, pressing lightly. "Then why such a violent reaction over thinking about someone? Everyone does that. I'm a public figure, damn near a celebrity. Surely you're not the only one who has."

"Caught once," Jason's voice was strangled again, higher than he wanted it to be, "with a magazine. Not... not a porn magazine. Almost broke my wrist for what I was doing."

Tim's fingers pressed harder for a second and Jason could _feel_ his anger as if it were a tangible thing within the vehicle. The hair on his arms rose and then Tim took a deep breath and the sensation dissipated. "He had no right. Jason, I need you to actually hear me on this."

Jason forced his eyes open, clung to the ice bucket, and turned to look up into Tim's face, into the intensity of his eyes.

"You've done _nothing_ wrong. As the person you were thinking of, I'm actually flattered." He reached down to lightly touch Jason's hand, just the quickest flutter of fingertips along the back of Jason's hand. 

Jason's eyes snapped down to their hands, stared once again at the ring on Tim's finger and fought down the urge to take it and kiss it once again, grappling with the knowledge as to what was causing him to want that. His heart thumped in his chest and his fingers flexed on the ice bucket until the plastic creaked. 

"Jason?"

He swallowed thickly, gave a little shake of his head and hunched over again. "Ashamed..." he admitted quietly. "Kind of feel like I've done something horribly wrong because it's not like I had your permission."

Silence prevailed long enough that Jason was afraid he'd said something horribly wrong but then Tim's hand was back on his again, his touch still feather-light. "You have my permission, both going forward and retroactively. Do not feel shame over your own pleasure when there is no harm done to someone else. This is _not_ tantamount to anything you are trying to draw lines to."

Jason gave a single nod, his gaze focused entirely on Tim's hand, on that stupid red and silver ring on his finger, the owls etched into the sides of it. Up close he noticed the faintest outline of an owl in the background of the red stone, as if perhaps mounted behind it and shining through.

"You're fixated on it... why?"

Something clenched inside Jason and he fought down the discomfort that wanted up at the statement. Pursing his lips, he took in a steadying breath and then let it out. "Why does the man to your right kiss it?"

He glanced up at Tim's face, found the sparkle in his eyes, the start of amusement curling his lips at the corners. "He desires the display of loyalty and I enjoy the air of authority it creates."

"It's pretentious." It was out before Jason could stop it and shock filtered onto his face, fear coming up right behind it.

Tim just smirked at him. "Maybe so, but it doesn't change the fact that you're barely holding yourself back from doing it, too."

Jason swallowed thickly. Tim lifted his hand, held it out in a way that clearly indicated what he wanted. His chin lifted slightly and Jason watched as the calm air of the Courtmaster descended upon him despite the lack of his mask. 

They regarded one another silently until Jason finally gave in, placing the ice bucket between his feet and taking Tim's hand in both of his own, holding it reverently as he leaned down, hesitated long enough to let his breath ghost over Tim's hand, and then pressed his lips to the ring. 

Arousal flared deep inside him and he barely held himself back from swiping his tongue over the stone, barely pulled himself away from Tim's hand. He kept his gaze down, knew his desire was going to be written clearly across his features if he looked up, knew he'd be caught for something he hadn't even pieced together until just now.

Tim's hand shifted away from Jason's own, came up to gently hold his chin, forcing his gaze up until their eyes met. Something hot boiled there, a fire licking at Jason's insides from the look in his eyes alone. "Stand to my left next time, Jason. Take up that spot at the table and I will _never_ call you on looking away when you do not wish to gaze upon what we are doing to someone there. Take that seat and I will give you a ring of your very own, never touched by another's lips. Would that please you?"

Jason shivered before he could stop it, his breath hitching inward and he caught Tim's placid little smile.

"Yes."

"At the table it will be reverent, no more than what you just did. In private..." he paused and Jason felt his temperature rise a few degrees, felt like he was burning up from the inside out, "you may do whatever it is you actually wanted to just now with it."

Jason's shoulders shook with his shiver this time, a breath of, "There will be other times?" leaving him.

"You need this and I quite enjoy it. I believe you need more trust in the Court where we have failed you in the past and I also believe you need to understand that I mean the words I've spoken to you tonight."

The car stopped and Tim's hand slid along Jason's cheek. "You intrigue me and I'd like to know more."

Jason's pulse felt like it was skittering through his veins as the car door was opened and Tim sat back again, watching him with a warmth in his eyes that left Jason's desire a tangle in his gut. 

He slid out of the limo and stepped out onto the street, hesitated for a second, and gazed back inside the limo at Tim, indecision of what to say leaving his words frozen upon his tongue. 

"What color do you want?"

His breath hitched and he closed his eyes, imagined taking the ring into his mouth, imagined claiming it as _his_ and he saw a flat black stone, a silver ring, imagined the engravings on the side against his tongue, felt his sex hardening at the image of it. 

"Black stone and silver ring."

He opened his eyes and watched the flash of something devious in Tim's own, saw the knowing smile that settled on his lips. "Have a good evening, Jason."

"You as well." The words were a whisper as he stepped onto the sidewalk and watched the door close. He waited until the driver was inside the car, understood inherently he wasn't going to be left to stand out here alone, that they wouldn't leave until he was inside his home. He turned away, slipped into his apartment and closed the door behind him, leaning back on it as his hand fumbled for the lock. He let himself slide down the door and crouch there, his heart going a million miles an hour, the absurd knot of arousal tight inside him. 

_What the hell was he thinking?_


	2. Chapter 2

Nearly a month slipped by before the Court was called into session again. This time when they arrived, Tim was already standing at the top of the stairs, his hands on the railings to either side, a pair of Talons flanking him. 

Jason hesitated by his old spot for a moment before continuing on, rounding the table and quietly moving to take his spot to the left of the head. Without question, the others shifted to accommodate him. No one ever moved without being told to do so; thus, no one questioned when there was a rearrangement in seating. The trust that this was necessary was inherent. 

They stood quietly until the last few members filtered in and took their places, the table once again full and Jason made the leap that someone had taken Diana's place. Someone from Tim's more agreeable list, surely.

Tim began down the stairs and Jason snapped to attention, his hands behind his back, gaze on the table, feet shoulder width apart, his back rigid. He could feel the others doing the same around him, could feel the surge of power that had almost always left him feeling ill at ease. Today, it almost seemed to caress him instead and he marveled at that, trying to understand his mind's way of warping what was surely still the same as it had always been.

Tim stopped at the head of the table, shrugged his cape off once the Talons were waiting for it and then held his hands out to both sides. The man to Tim's right took his hand and gently kissed the red ring and Jason's breath stuck in his throat as he caught sight of the black and silver ring, as if it had been ripped from his mind and placed upon Tim's finger.

Shifting, Jason took Tim's hand in both of his own, holding it reverently and then bringing it to his mouth, his eyelids fluttering closed as he kissed it, the contact far, _far_ too short for what he truly wanted. Tim's words rang in his head, the promise of _later_ , and he let go and straightened, intentionally avoiding looking at Tim more than he already had. Rather, he stared at the table again, waited until Tim gestured and the Court began to sit. He settled as well, listening as reports of their progress on plans was reported back, bothering this time to look at the other members of the Court.

There were more women than he'd ever recalled the old Court having had, a mixture of people here that left him feeling pleased beyond measure. There was no sensation of unfairness as there had once been and he found that most of them were far more relaxed than he had ever been. A few held themselves as he did, rigid and fearful, on edge at all times, and he recalled that sensation, found that it was still there somewhere inside of him, though buried beneath his more easily shifting thoughts for the moment.

New orders were given to two key members of the Court and a portion of the plan was re-discussed, none of it directly involving Jason in any way. His presence was only necessary for Court custom, just as many others here at the table were, and that, too, was for control – fine-tuned to ensure they were falling in line as often as manageable to get them all in the same room. 

Accountability.

It was only with the hail of, "We, the Court, are as one. We, the Court, rule with Justice unified," that Jason pulled himself from the swirl of his thoughts, offering the strength of his voice to the words and standing with the others. He hung back for only a moment, his eyes on the ring for long enough to confirm it was an uncanny replica of his daydream, and then he turned away and headed into his tunnel.

The journey home was always fraught with ceaseless connections, things he disliked doing. A car he only used for this, beat up but with eternally dark windows that he parked in a garage downtown, his mask on until he could disappear in the shadows of the only non-monitored garage in Gotham. From there, he'd remove his robe and mask, pack them in a backpack and then slip away into the darkness of the night, making his way for blocks in random directions until he found a way to get himself up onto Gotham's rooftops, making his way from one to the other until he felt he'd lost anyone who could have possibly wanted to follow him and doubled back on the ground just to be sure. 

Nearly an hour later, he arrived at his real car and would then make a near circuit of the city, constantly checking for tails and then looping through the harder to navigate parts of the city before arriving at his home, parking a block away, and hoofing it the rest of the way.

Tonight, he was halfway up the block when he saw a limo turn the corner, pull to a stop in front of his home and the driver exit the car, standing patiently beside the back door, though not opening it.

 _Later_ echoed in his mind and he slowed, carefully taking stock of the situation. He still didn't feel he was being followed, could find no evidence of it. The limo was the same make and model as the one Tim had been in before and the driver was the same build, still cloaked in shadow, his parking convenient for such a thing.

Jason carefully made his way the rest of the way up the block, hesitating when the door was opened, his heart in his throat for a moment until he drew close enough to see Tim settled on the seat within. His left hand lifted and Jason was drawn in, almost breathless as he leaned over, meeting Tim's gaze, finding it smoldering.

A shiver worked its way through him and he breathed out a quiet, "I'm probably a sweaty mess right now."

Tim gestured him into the car. "Such things do not bother me."

Jason slid into the limo and the door closed behind him.

"You do not work tonight, nor tomorrow. Correct?" 

Wetting his lips Jason took stock of the way it was said and then gave a nod of his head. "Correct."

He watched the slightest quirk of Tim's lips. "Do you always take that amount of care not to be followed?"

Anguish was quick to shudder its way through him and he slumped a bit in the seat. "I failed." It wasn't a question.

"Oh no, you lost the Talon I had tracking you not long after you left the parking garage. I had to use other methods to pick up the trail." Tim sat back, crossing one slim leg over the other, his arms draping over the seat on either side of him. "Impressive, really."

Jason felt himself ease up a bit, giving a small nod. "I do my best."

Another little quirk of Tim's lips. "Just as you did your best tonight not to absolutely devour my ring I suspect." Tim held out his hand then, the slightest air of darkness in his gaze as he watched Jason.

He fought with himself for a moment, tried to keep himself calm as he let go of his backpack and slid to his knees, shifting until he was kneeling in front of Tim, his hands coming up to cup his hand.

His stomach quivered as arousal slid through him, icy fingers followed by intense heat. Bringing his lips to the ring, he sighed against it, allowed his lips to part and his tongue to swipe out over the black stone, swiping once... twice... his tongue sliding along the sides, the sensation of the engravings giving him a thrill.

Kissing it once again, he drew back enough to see it, his thumb sliding over it in awe, his mouth parting and offering words he hadn't truly intended to speak. 

"It's always been you. The presence that puts us all on edge, the way my hair raises and my skin prickles. The sensation in every safe house we have."

His eyes met Tim's, panic rising in his gut that he'd just spoken so bluntly, but all he found was amusement in Tim's gaze. "I showed my cards with the ring, didn't I?"

Jason's lips parted and he nodded, looking back down at it. "An exact replica of my thoughts and sensations, down to the very feel of it against my tongue."

"It's everything you wanted."

"Yes."

"I only dipped into that single thought, Jason. I would never delve further without permission or without reason."

"I trust you." The words were out before Jason could register them, understood abruptly that they were nothing but the truth. He sat back on his heels and calmly looked up into Tim's face, meeting his gaze head-on.

"You want me." Tim lifted his hand to gesture briefly. "The real me, not just the image in a magazine. But it's new... so fresh it hasn't settled just yet." He lifted his head for a moment and Jason caught the flash in his eyes, watched his nostrils flare briefly and then the quirk of Tim's lips. "Your desire is heavy, your want barely restrained."

Jason shivered again, this time actually blushing as he put his hands against his own thighs, rubbing absently. "Do you smell it?"

This time a full-on grin. "Yes. Smell, taste, the sensation of thoughts on the air. It's distracting unless you learn to rein it in. I spent years fighting it before learning to coexist with it."

Licking his lips, Jason pressed his fingers tighter against his thighs. "Do you want me in return?"

"If I did not, I would never be so cruel as to lead you this far." Tim held out his hand again and Jason instantly took it in one of his own, leaning in and this time dragging his tongue all the way up Tim's middle finger to the ring and swirling his tongue around it. Arousal painted his insides, strained his pants with the heft of his erection pressing at the seam of his pants, left him desperate in ways he hadn't been in years.

Tim shifted, his legs uncrossing, thighs parting, an obvious invitation and Jason moaned, sucking Tim's finger into his mouth and sucking, his gaze pinned to Tim's crotch, to the rapidly bulging fabric of his pants. He sucked until he couldn't stand it anymore, pulled off his finger and sat there, panting on the floor of Tim's limo. "Want to –"

"Do what you desire, Jason. My boundaries are far, _far_ from yours. Whatever you want, take it."

Jason moved between his thighs, one hand on each firm, muscular leg and then he closed his eyes, bowing his head, allowing his uncertainty to show. "What is the price?"

Tim's hand lightly ghosted through his hair. "There is no price, Jason. This is not some primitive exchange of sex for favors or payment. I offer myself to you as a lover, not as someone in position of power over you." He held out his hand again. "Can you not feel the way I've unbound you from the others with this ring?"

Jason thought back to the way his thoughts hadn't been caught up in a web of fear, hadn't been forced upon the words spoken within the Court like they usually were. He had still felt it, but it had been low grade, as if his reigns had been eased, and he breathed out, "That was you?"

"Has always been."

"Why would you free me like this?"

"Because you know my truth and I know yours. _Trust_ , Jason. The whole world should be founded upon it and yet, even within the thing I rule over there is such a lack of it. I trust you to continue to come, to maintain your membership without the reins of old. I trust you not to reveal who I am, just as you must trust that I'm telling you nothing but the truth."

"Why unleash your oldest dog?"

"Why keep him leashed when he has never fully agreed to start with?"

Jason winced, peering up at Tim's face with a wounded sort of expression only to find kindness there. 

"I do not mean it as an insult. Your disagreement is what I was referring to as what keeps me in line. You truly are my gauge, the manifestation of what I should fear but no longer do. You are my moral compass where mine has fallen to disarray. I give you freedom because I know that you will see how valuable that is and will, in time, provide me your full attention upon your own free will within our meetings."

Tim sat forward, gently caressed Jason's cheek. "To be clear, I do not require any sort of compliance with the things I offer like this. I am not using my position of power to goad you into anything with me. If you wish to go back to your house, wish me to stop these visits, or even wish me to get rid of his ring, I will do so in an instant and there will be no repercussions."

Something inside Jason eased and he moved as close as he could get on his knees, leaned up and hesitated there, waiting to see if Tim would close the distance or leave him to his own devices. 

Tim leaned in, his lips so very close but not completely there and Jason understood the necessity of that as well. Understood this was _his_ decision, had to be.

He sealed his lips with Tim's, groaned softly against them, his tongue begging entrance and receiving it. They tasted one another until Jason's pulse was pounding in his ears, until he was trembling with the desire to _have_.

He drew away from the kiss, slid his hands to the fly of Tim's slacks, began to unfasten them, casting him one more glance to confirm this was truly okay, found only the most desire-filled look he'd ever received in his life, and all but ripped Tim's pants open. Freeing his cock, he leaned in and took it into his mouth without preamble, without any hesitation, and Tim's soft inhalation of breath was like music to his ears. 

Jason allowed his tongue to map out all the nuances of Tim's length, finding everything that made him unique from anyone else Jason had ever had, marveled at how he wasn't at all like any of the fumbling encounters that filled Jason's past. This wasn't Jason clouded with alcohol being taken in a bathroom stall. This wasn't his fumbling teenage self pawing at one of the other kids in the orphanage. This wasn't anything like the girl Jason had so desperately tried to want in a fit of self-loathing after years of being alone.

He was so absorbed in what this was, what it wasn't, that he didn't realize how diligently he was going after Tim, how difficult it had to be to be on the receiving end of such intensity and _hang on_. Tim's hand tightened against the back of his neck for a second and then there was a breathless, " _Jason_ ," a warning and arousal surged up hard inside Jason with the understanding that he was about to taste Tim's most intimate offering. Tim's hips slowly canted upward, his thighs trembling beneath Jason's hands, and then there was the most desperate sounding cry Jason had ever heard just before his mouth was flooded with Tim's release, before he was giving the most aborted little thrusts into Jason's mouth, cumming with more intensity than Jason had ever witnessed anyone manage before.

His hair stood on end, his very being flooding with something he could only describe as _perfection_ and then Tim was easing back against the seat, his breathing ragged, his cock still very much erect in Jason's mouth. Jason gave it one more lick, all the way from base to tip and sat back, drawing one hand over his mouth and wiping it on his own pants. 

Tim lightly caressed his hair, over his cheek, and then slid his thumb over Jason's very red lips. "Gorgeous."

Jason huffed out an amused sound, trying to shrug it off as he pulled himself up from the floor, away from the touch he so wanted and back onto his own seat. He tugged at his hoodie, pulling it down over the obscenity of his erection and focused on trying to calm himself down, though he very much felt like it was going to be a losing battle. 

They were silent for a while before Tim spoke up. "Do you not want anything in return?"

Jason barely caught the desperate whine that wanted out, barely kept himself seated. Instead, he huffed out a sound that was supposed to have been a laugh but was perhaps slightly bitter. "Do you truly think I could do that and not hold desire?"

"That wasn't the question." Tim's voice was calm, so entirely so that Jason felt his own bitter anxiety draining away. "This is in your hands, Jason. If you want, you tell me that you want. I will not act without explicit permission."

Jason's breath hitched, ideas of what he wanted swirling in his head for a moment before he crushed it all away. "It's fine... I'm fine." It wasn't the truth and he felt dirty the second he said it, flinched away from Tim's gaze and bowed his head. "Maybe... I should go."

"Why?"

He wanted to yell _because I just lied_ at Tim, wanted to scream it and then beg forgiveness. Instead, he just shrugged, pushing his hands in his lap and trying discretely to find the pressure point he'd been taught years ago to make his erection stop being so bothersome. 

"I feel you should know that even when I don't try to read you, it's there. You're the very epitome of open book to me, Jason. You think something hard enough and it's like a giant neon sign over your head to me. I cannot turn it off and you're one of the few people in this world that I can't seem to find the off switch for."

Fear lanced through Jason and he looked up at Tim, found worry there instead of the anger he expected. Pain lanced through his heart again and he slumped back against the seat. "Then you already know my answers, why bother to ask?"

"Courtesy... human decency. We all have the right to opt out of things even if our minds are screaming something else entirely. I only tell you because I feel it would be wrong to hide such a thing from you."

Jason slid one hand up to rub it over his face, dragged it down over the faint stubble of a full day and then sighed as he dropped his hand back down to his lap. "Look... letting me blow you is entirely different from," he gestured at his own crotch, "me asking for something in return. I get it, this isn't for payment or anything like that. I'm not required to do something in return for you giving this to me, but it's just that. A gift. I've been handed a gift and I'm not going to greedily take all the other gifts on the table like a damn selfish child. So, yes, I want other things. I want to know what it'd feel like to have you inside me. I want to feel your mouth around my cock. I want to know what your home looks like and how it feels to be taken in someplace that's not a dirty bathroom stall. I want to know if you torture or pamper, if you'll make me scream in ecstasy or if you're a horrible lover. I want to know if you'll make me cum as many times as I can or if that's irrelevant to you. But at the end of the damn day, I'm _nothing_ in comparison to you, Tim. I'm _filth_ and if I ask for even a single one of those things then I'm inviting myself into a life that doesn't belong to me. So yeah... I'm _fine_. I'll _be_ fine."

The rush of words left him feeling drained, empty in a way he hadn't been in a long time. Realizing his hands were shaking, he shoved them harder against his legs, clasped them together as he fought down the well of emotion that came behind the words. 

"You are not – and have never been – _filth_ , Jason. Every member of the Court we have purged has been _filth_. Trash of the worst kind. We live in a world where financial status is deemed to mean so very much, but it should never be a measuring stick to which we should hold ourselves accountable. Just because I am worth millions and you live paycheck to paycheck is meaningless when it comes to character. Of the two of us, it is I that should feel like _filth_ when measured against you. I have taken a life and while, yes, it was for the greater good of it all, it was still a horrible act. Every time I dispatch the Talons I am committing the same sins that they are. My soul is unclean while yours is pristine. Do not _ever_ believe yourself beneath me."

Jason heard the rustle of cloth that indicated Tim covering himself, the sound of his zipper, and then Tim was settling beside him on the seat, sliding his hand to ease between his shoulder blades and Jason shivered again, everything in him renewed with a single touch. "This is an easy situation if you let it be. I want you; if I didn't, I would not be here. You desire me or I hope to God you wouldn't have been on your knees for me. I told you this was about us being lovers and I meant that. I don't want to use you and toss you out like yesterday's newspaper."

Jason closed his eyes, reached up to rub his hand over them harshly for a moment and then sighed. "Then what I really want is to go home with you. Invite me in for coffee that we'll never get to and then have your way with me. Show me what you actually _want_ , not just something I've said I want."

Tim's fingers pressed harder against Jason's back for a moment and then eased. "If some of those happen to line up, don't blame me for stealing from your ideas."

Jason let out a half-amused huff of breath, shook his head and reached to snag Tim's left hand, his thumb tracing over the ring, pressing against the black stone and willing himself to feel the power of it. 

He was crazy. Definitely crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason had expected a huge house, had even expected a huge sprawling mansion, perhaps even Wayne Manor. Instead, they currently stood in a somewhat modest three bedroom, two bathroom home just on the outskirts of Gotham. Yes, it was situated in a wealthy neighborhood, but it was one of the smaller homes within the community and Jason had to admit his total confusion over this fact.

Tim's hand slid over his back, gently guided him from the main room and into one of the smaller rooms, one of the bedrooms done up as a parlor. He picked up a remote and the electronic fireplace came to life, the soft sound of crackling wood filling the room, casting a soft glow over the whole of it. 

Tim settled on the couch, spread his arm over the back of it in invitation. Jason hesitated for a second before padding across the room, glad they'd left their shoes by the door with how the carpet was pushing up between his toes in such an inviting manner.

He slid onto the couch, left one leg dangling off, the other neatly folded under him, and leaned into Tim's touch, allowing himself to relax against his side. 

"Do you mind if I answer some of the neon signs you threw out there?"

Jason almost snorted, instead huffed out a laugh and shrugged. "Go for it."

"I have no interest in living within Wayne Manor. It's stifling in its own right and I've never seen the point in having more rooms than you know what to do with. I don't intend to take in every orphan I meet like Bruce has and thus, there is no need for more rooms than this. One for my bedroom, one for this lovely room that is my entire epitome of comfort, and one for a guest should one desire to stop by." Tim paused for a second and then breathed out, "If it makes you feel better, the rug in the main room is worth over a hundred grand. A gift, but still... there is extravagance within these walls, I assure you."

This time Jason just smiled, reached for Tim's left hand and linked it with his own, his fingers finding the ring again. "I'm connected to you with this, aren't I?"

"Actually, it's rather the opposite. The Court is connected to me rather intimately. This has freed you of that binding."

"And if you take it off?"

"Unless it is destroyed, then you are free of that part of my magic."

Jason almost asked why again, recalled the discussion of trust and kept himself silent, still puzzling over the trust that had blossomed out of a single incident, found himself turning it over and over in his mind to find where Tim had made his decision. 

"May I answer this question as well?"

Jason nodded and Tim squeezed his hand. "It's been a long time coming. I have simply waited on the day you'd actually look to me. The woman has nothing to do with it."

"Why wait on me?"

"It had to be that way. If it wasn't, then it would have been a gross abuse of power."

"You still hold power over me. Granted, you say the magical part is lifted, but you _are_ the Courtmaster and I the lowly Court member, no matter what we are playing at here."

"We _play_ at nothing. I offer you the truth. Whether you take it or not is up to you."

Jason stared down at the ring and then looked away, toward the fireplace, his mind fading into the embers until he'd worked out his confusion, Tim allowing them silence the entire time. 

Finally, Jason asked the next most pressing question. "Is this where we actually have coffee instead of pretending at the invite?" When Tim didn't answer, Jason finally glanced at him, finding the most amused look on Tim's face. 

"You still think I do not _desire you_. Even after you've had my cock in your mouth, _taken_ my very essence into you, you still believe yourself unwanted." He shifted his grip on Jason's hand, pressed it to his thigh and let it go. "Feel for yourself if you do not believe me."

Jason studied him for a moment, something squirming inside him until he finally shifted his hand up, moving it to cup Tim's very much aroused length, drawing in a stuttering breath as he trembled with absolute desire. Before he could stop himself, he was sliding off the couch, tugging Tim's pants open, desperate to get his mouth around him, salivating at the memory of Tim's taste. He'd never wanted something like this, had never desired a person in the same way he wanted his own hand around his cock each morning. 

With a choked-off whine, he yanked Tim's hips forward and shoved his mouth down on Tim's cock, moaning around it as he took it as far as he could. 

Tim let out a shocked sounding moan, his hand pushing into Jason's hair and holding on, his touch shockingly gentle, not at all directing, and Jason bobbed to his heart's content, exploring Tim in a way he'd never had a chance to do with any of his other sexual partners. 

It took him a few seconds for his brain to catch up to the fact that he was about to cum in his own pants and when the thought struck him, he scrambled to get them open, to free his cock and shift enough that he'd shoot under the couch instead of right in the middle of the floor. He gave a few desperate grunts and then his hips canted forward sharply and he cried out around Tim's cock, shoving down until he was choking himself as he came, hips jerking against the couch, his cum spurting across the carpet under the couch for what felt like an eternity. He was light headed by the time he was done and had to pull up completely to gasp for air; he let out a surprised yelp as Tim pulled his head back and kissed him in a manner that implied severe arousal. 

When they parted, he took note of the wild way Tim was staring at him, at the way his entire being seemed frazzled at the edges, as if he were barely hanging onto coherency. Tim pointed. "Bedroom. Please." Almost as an afterthought, "Now, _fuck_ , please."

Jason hitched his pants and scrambled up, half-tripping over himself as he made his way to the bedroom that stood open at the end of the hall, barely got inside before Tim was there, yanking him against him and kissing him harshly, biting at his lower lip and then pulling back, pushing Jason toward the bed as he unfastened his pants the rest of the way. "God I need you."

Wetting his lips, Jason paused just long enough to struggle out of his clothing, felt Tim's presence before he was being pressed to the mattress. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his chest, clung to it as he heard Tim rustling around and then the sound a cap opening. A condom landed beside him and Tim breathed out, "Fuck, _open_ that for me. I'm... my fingers are shaking."

Jason marveled at that, moving just enough to get the condom and open it, not used to not having to force his partners into using one; yet, here Tim was, shaking he wanted him so badly and yet holding himself back long enough to get a condom and lubricant. It was, perhaps, the kindest Jason had ever been treated.

He pushed the now open packet back toward Tim and settled again just as two fingers pressed between his cheeks, rubbed at him and then slowly slid up inside his body. He opened easily enough, accepting the intrusion with the same practiced ease he accepted his own fingers, allowed himself to close his eyes and compare this to the Tim his mind had always conjured up. This one was nicer, a much more caring sort of lover than anything Jason's mind had ever supplied him with. He supposed that made a certain amount of sense given his experiences had all been of the quick fuck variety and this was shaping up to be somewhat of a lasting sort of thing. A third finger slid into him and Jason shoved his face against the pillow, moaned loudly into it, his hips rocking back toward the intrusion, desiring everything Tim would offer him here. 

By the time his cock was aching and heavy again Tim pulled his fingers free and he could hear him fitting the condom over himself, more lubricant being applied, and Jason couldn't stop himself from panting for it. His hips rocked up and Tim carefully closed Jason's legs, straddled them, and then leaned over him, guiding his cock to Jason's hole and slowly starting to push in.

Jason hitched in a breath at the intensity of being taken this way, of how much tighter it made him feel, of how much _larger_ Tim's cock felt in this position. He moaned louder than he meant to and barely stifled the end of it with the pillow, biting down on it in some effort not to make too much noise.

Tim only paused once he was fully inside, moved over him until he was molded to Jason's back, one arm around his middle, the other supporting his weight. Tim's lips ghosted over Jason's shoulder. 

" _Moan_ for me, gorgeous. There's no one but us to hear it."

Jason let out the most obnoxiously porn worthy moan he'd ever heard himself make and then a sharp cry right behind it as Tim pulled out and pushed back in with a quick snap of his hips. Jason's cock flexed hard against the bed and he turned his head, pressing his cheek to the pillow, his mouth hanging slack from the pleasure of it. 

"Do you want to know what your neon sign says now?"

Jason nodded, clutching at the pillow for all he was worth. He could feel Tim's lips quirk into a smile against his shoulder. He gave a few more sharp thrusts, a quiet moan, and then, "You're begging me to fuck you, to make you cum. Telling me so many flattering things I'm not sure how long I'll hold on."

"That you're the best lover I've ever had?" Jason panted roughly for a moment as Tim did something exquisite with his hips. "That no one has ever made me feel like this?"

" _Yes_." Tim breathed the word out as he began to labor over Jason, his hips working up a rhythm, pulling Jason into a whimpering mess beneath him. 

"I'm here... this is real. _We_ are real."

Tim's voice grounded Jason, pulled him from his scattering, self-deprecating thoughts, away from the parts of him that were convinced this couldn't be real and back toward the parts that connected with his body, told him this was happening and that it was _fantastic_.

Jason pushed his hips back, slid one hand down between his legs and began to fondle his sac, tugging it lightly while Tim did the damn best job anyone ever had of fucking him, of keeping him so completely focused on sex that he didn't have time to think of anything else.

Soon enough his thoughts stopped presenting him with how it couldn't be real and instead showered him with flashes of how good certain things had felt, how he liked it when Tim tilted his hips just so, how he preferred a sort of indirect brushing of his prostate over the thrust against it that had made him grunt. How he loved it when he pulled his sac _just so_ and Tim filled him up at the same time. 

Tim's hand slid down from around his waist to his cock, fingertips brushing over it and then grasping and Jason received a flash of knowledge that that was _his_ ring touching his cock, stroking along his shaft, that _he_ would taint it soon enough and he let the image of shooting off right over it play in his mind, almost hoping Tim would pick up on it and let it happen.

He didn't even realize his hips were working with Tim until he was nearly sobbing with his need to cum, frantically shoving back against him, burying Tim's cock in his ass with every backwards movement, lurching forward against his hand in complete desperation to get off, and then he was shouting, louder than he'd ever been as he clenched down around Tim and started to cum. The first wave of his orgasm crashed into him and he felt weightless, as if he existed somewhere outside of space and time and then he came crashing back to reality, his hips jerking, his voice crying out Tim's name again and again, his cock shoving _right against that ring_ , and he swore he was cumming a second time right within the first one, _screamed_ because of it and then collapsed into a spasming heap.

Tim worked frantically over him for a few more seconds and then _shoved_ in deep, choking out Jason's name in between the most gorgeous, breathless moans Jason had ever heard.

He could feel Tim twitching inside him, felt the frantic few jerks when Tim was done, and then Tim was pulling out, panting as he pressed his forehead to Jason's shoulder. He felt the shiver that worked through Tim and he lay there, the most blissed out expression on his face as he realized it hadn't just been amazing for him, but for Tim as well.

It took a minute before Tim pulled away and Jason heard the condom drop in the trash bin under the nightstand and then Tim was crouching by the bed, offering his hand to Jason. "Hey, gorgeous... look what you claimed as all your own."

Jason let himself stare down at the ring, at his cum decorating the band of it, splashed all across Tim's fingers, but pooling there. 

Tim grinned at him. "That's one way to stake a claim."

Jason huffed out a laugh, almost snorted right behind it and then buried his face in the pillow to choke off the rest of the laughter that wanted out. After a moment, he turned his head back to Tim, found him placidly cleaning his hand with a tissue. He wondered for a moment if this was the start of something, something he'd needed for a good long time.

Tim's gaze met his, held it steadfast. "The answer is yes, Jason. Always has been."

Perhaps he wasn't crazy after all.


End file.
